Eating Disorder Stories: Madison (Bulimia)
“…It was like a brick had been taken off my back, I could breath.
As I laid my head on the corner of the white toilet rim, I knew I had a problem.
It started out like any other diet plan.
I wanted to just loose a couple pounds. I just started cutting back on all my favorite things, ice cream and bread. The pounds started melting away, as I was running daily.
I started to feel great and it kinda was the one thing I could control in my life at the time.
It was the summer before my junior year and my older brother started getting into drugs. Fighting was always happening at my house. Though I had two loving parents, they couldn’t stop by brother from acting a fool.
Before this all happened, my brother and I were very very close. He told me everything, all the bad things he was doing because I was the one person he trusted. When everything started to blow up, I was the one that felt guilty because I never said anything to be parents.
Everything in my life seemed to be falling apart. So I decided to place all my effort into my eating and exercise. I started feeling great, and the better I felt the more I ran, and the less I ate. My parents were so caught up in my brother that they really didn’t seem to realize I was falling apart.
Then it got to the point where my body was craving food but I wouldn’t eat, and when I did I felt like shit. This feeling of self hate took me over and I began to make myself throw up.
I remember telling myself that it was only gonna be a one time thing.
As time progressed I began to love the feeling it gave me. I loved feeling empty. Feeling empty to me was the comparison to the feeling I got when I ran. I felt numb, like for once nothing could could make me feel bad about myself.
As basketball season came around the corner, I could feel myself having so much less energy at practice. I felt like I just wanted to sit down and cry. I had no motivation, no self confidence, and no drive to get better. I hated my coaches and I didn’t wanna be there.
A few weeks into the season my guidance counselor called me down to talk about my weight because my mom had mentioned that she was worried.
This was my first breaking point.
I was down to 95 pounds, my grade were suffering, I couldn’t focus, the thought of eating lunch with my friends gave me anxiety, and I just felt like my whole life was falling apart.
I wasn’t ready to tell people the truth.
My friends and family could tell I was too thin and something was wrong but I wasn’t ready to share. I just told them I got a little carried away and am gonna start eating more and gain weight but in reality I was gonna do the exact opposite.
The only person that knew I made myself throw up was my boyfriend Dakota. We had been together since 8th grade and I felt like he was the one person I could trust with no judgement besides my mom. I was not ready to tell my mom yet because I was afraid of disappointment. Dakota made me promise I would never do it again. I made the promise.
After all of this, my mom started watching me eat, and I could tell that people around me were watching me. Little did my mom know that when she walked away I was smashing the piece of toast into my purse, and in school I started skipping lunch and going to the art room. During this period, art began to be my escape from the outside world. I put all my emotions into my drawings and paintings and they ended and I finally found something I was confident in.
The constant running, little eating, and hiding this secret was killing me.
I was hardly eating anything, and of the little I did consume, I threw it up. I knew I needed help especially since the one person that knew everything about me, Dakota, was gonna be so upset when he found out I lied to him and was breaking my promise. The crazy thing is, I don’t think I ever even planned to keep that promise. I felt so hopeless and those times when I felt disgusting and lonely, my mind literally took over. It was like I had no control over myself.
The one thing I dedicated my life to because I could control it ending up being the monster that was controlling me.
One night after Sunday dinner with my family, I was in my basement with Dakota. I told him the truth. That I knew I needed help and I couldn’t control myself. He told me I had to tell my mom. That same night I called my mom down to the basement and told her. She actually had a lot of sympathy and made me feel safe.
My mom has always been my number one fan so I knew she would be I was just afraid.
After all these months on hiding it, it was like a brick had been taken off my back, I could breath.
The rest of my story is not a fairytale.
I did get help, and I started going to counseling twice a week. I started eating normal again and started to lift weight to gain muscle mass.
It took a long time for me to start feeling energized again. It also took me a long time to be okay with eating food again like an average human does.
I still struggle with bad days and it has been two years since I started recovery. I just learned to realize that there is so much more precious things in life to stress about.
As cliche as it sounds, you really don’t realize how good your life is until you have no control over it at all. My recovery is a roller coaster, with the couple good days there are a rough couple days wrapped in there too. You take the good with the bad and learn to be strong.
I definitely think my eating disorder made me a way stronger person. I may not be at the finish line yet, but I definitely am on my way. I know what direction I am going and I am determined to get there through all the pain.